


lightly row

by orchestra



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Gen, M/M, a kettle of friendmance boiled to a temperature thats juuuuuust right, im moving at a snails pace so this is set in the cambria caverns meaning no spoilers hoohah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 10:00:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17506469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orchestra/pseuds/orchestra
Summary: in a moment of brief clarity and therapy, they talk. the caverns listen. meanwhile, a trial of baked goods.





	lightly row

If there’s one way to really mess with the homeostasis and sanity of a human being, Rose had declared with a royal crumble to the damp, rocky earth, it’s gotta be by forcing them into underground ruins. It’s cruel and dangerously unhuman. I can’t breathe. Are you listening, Sorey?

Sorey had laughed, and wished he could have sympathized, but c’mon, the boy’s having the time of his life here. They’ve just spent hours crawling and shuffling and sprinting from wraiths along the twisting halls of the Cambria Caverns. Twice (twice!) they’ve had pillars crumble under their heavy boots, like fine wheat and honey streusel, into uninviting heaps of snakes; hanging above their heads they found a monstrous shrimp-lobster-centipede fossil gazing on with its beady eyes (or was that actually its rear?); and Dezel may or may not have slammed into a few stalactites in the darker bends. Sorey rests his gloved hand against a prominent stalagmite. He observes its shape and color: beige, tan, white, harsh gray, green, beige, rings of earth’s small blessings towering preciously upwards to its skies. Except, Sorey wonders, their sky is this ceiling, and when he looks up, his vision glistens with tears.

The ceiling glows with specks of teal and crystal blue, and Sorey’s eyes wildly chase the flickering here to there, skip as fast as his heart races in wonder. The ceiling pulses with a life stronger than what he’s seen in the fields of Rolance so far and suddenly the thinness of the cavern air seems to be washed away by the presence of new energy and spirit. Wow.

“That’s beautiful,” Lailah breathes, and her hair swipes along the mouth of the cave. Sorey wipes his chin with the movement. “Look at that.”

Edna lays her umbrella against the gentle curvature of the cave’s wall. “Bioluminescence.” Dezel mutters something about the ephemeral nature of such beauty, and Sorey closes his eyes.

There’s a soft hand on his shoulder, and Sorey glances to see Mikleo grinning at him. “Why don’t we take a break.” It’s less a question, and it may be in the way that the earth swallows and repels the smallest and largest of sounds until they’re left wondering whose voices they’re hearing, their own or those of a distant past, but Sorey thinks Mikleo sounds a little sad. Sorey nods.

“Hey,” Rose pips, “why don’t we enjoy some of this pound cake we found?”

“Do you think it’s still good to eat?”

“A little bit of mold never killed anyone.”

“I’m not too certain about that.”

Sorey watches Rose and the seraphs gather around a cluster of slim columns. Rose gingerly peels back the brown beeswax paper, says a quick thanks, then Dezel slices the cake into immaculately equal pieces. It earns him wild and subdued rounds of applause from the crowd.

“C’mon.” There’s a tug on his hand, and Sorey feels that backflip again. Mikleo’s hand is warm and dry, a gentle juxtaposition. “Let’s go back to that lake.” Sorey thinks to announce their leaving, but Edna is busily thumping Rose on the back with the handle of her umbrella, as Rose continues to grow red in the cheeks. They’ll be back before his party’s back down to two, hopefully.

“How old do you think the lake is?”

Sorey gazes at the back of Mikleo’s head, as his friend strides forward. It’s a nervous habit of Mikleo’s, Sorey knows, to break out trivia questions when his friend has elsewise on his mind. As it stands, they’re just about tied in count of correct educated-and-or-lucky guesses. Sorey thoroughly enjoys these moments too. “Hmm. How about twelve and a half millennia?”

Mikleo throws a frumpled look back. “That was my exact guess too.”

“Yeah.” Sorey grins. “Look at this sediment. The water, it’s so still and clear.” They breathe in at the same time, and somewhere in the back of his throat, there’s a tickle of salt and verbena. “Wanna go for a swim?”

Their elbows touch and Mikleo says, “Not right now,” and Sorey looks at Mikleo. Really looks at him. Mikleo starts for the bed and sits just above the water break, takes off his shoes and dips his toes in the water. Sorey can hear Mikleo’s sigh from where he stands, still really looking at him. Mikleo waves a hand, and Sorey lets himself be pulled in.

“I think I’m sick of it,” Mikleo sighs as Sorey begins to slip off his shoes, and Sorey almost throws them into the water in utter shock. “No, you idiot, I meant the water!” Mikleo laughs. It’s soft on Sorey’s sore ears.

Sorey fiddles with the stitching of his glove. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you _idiot_ ,” and there’s that characteristically beautiful head shake, claiming the streaks of light that filter from above, “that is the exact opposite of what I mean.”

“Uhuh.” Is it possible to feel seasick at the lakeside? There’s something overwhelming resting in the pit of Sorey’s stomach and he can’t quite quell it. It settles like the aftermath of the dumbing of his senses in powerful domains, heavy and uncomfortable. Regretful, even. He’s extremely aware of Mikleo now turned to him with a calm concern pulling at the corners of Mikleo’s lips. Sorey wishes he could be as collected as Mikleo is. He wishes he could kiss away the tension in his friend’s mouth.

“Sorey, I’m upset, and frankly, a bit offended that you still don’t believe me.” Sorey notices through his transfixed gaze that Mikleo is smiling. “I’d hoped that by now you’d fully believe me when I say that joining you was of my own volition and with every purpose of exploring all these amazing sights. With you.” Mikleo pauses, probably for effect. “And to make sure you don’t go and get yourself trapped in a mausoleum all alone.”

Sorey rolls his eyes. Knew it. “It probably wouldn’t be the worst place to go though. Imagine! I’d die rolling in filthy riches.”

“Or maybe skewered onto the teeth of some advanced magitechnology metal jaw contraption. Or slammed by that spinning rock. What was it called again?”

 “The Bacura!” Sorey laughs out loud this time, and pop, there goes that head fog. “Yeah, I’d be a goner then, huh?”

Mikleo smiles. “Definitely. I’d save you just in time, though.”

Sorey leans back with his hands planted firmly into the sandy dirt, shifts so his right shoulder is just behind Mikleo’s, supportive in turn, and he feels his friend give a bit. The earth is cool, and he curls his fingers just a bit to feel it cake beneath his nails. He feels silly for not remembering that Mikleo was also ruminating nervously just moments ago. “I’d appreciate you. I always do.”

A noncommittal hum sings through Sorey’s shoulder down to the very tips of his hand, and leaves in its wake that same warm and dry tingle. “I don’t want to fail you.” It’s thunderous.

“Mikleo,” Sorey starts, then bumbles, uh, “you would never fail. Do you know how often you school me and impress me with all you do? How many times you've saved me from gramps' pipe?" He laughs. "You’ve grown. You’re still growing stronger and wiser every day. And now we’ve got a whole team, maybe even a family. I think, slowly, we’re understanding what we should be doing. And with that, we’re moving more confidently, together. I feel like,” he breathes in deeply, ”I feel I can do anything with you guys.”

But that’s not completely truthful. They’d both felt that visceral sensation of being torn apart from each other’s side. The immense chill was something Sorey wish he’d never have to experience again, or make Mikleo and the others suffer, but he knows he can’t be certain he’ll be able to stop it from happening again and again and again. Sorey digs his nails in further. The water laps and licks at their ankles. Mikleo knows and has a finger in the water now, and asynchronous waves pick up up up then splash down around them. Sorey has always wondered how water could hold so much color, yet, no matter the tide or season, it’s never as magnificent as the Byzantium of his friend’s eyes.

“Plus, it’s probably on me to get strong enough so you don’t have to save me so much, right?” Maybe that wasn’t quite it, but he sees Mikleo smile still, and the knot in his stomach unfurls just a bit.

“It would probably be a huge relief for all of us if you’d finally stop blindly throwing all that shrapnel around when you’re armatized with Edna, yeah,” his friend partially jokes. Sorey balls up some dirt and arches it gracefully into Mikleo’s lap. “I want to be there for you, Sorey, and I want to see you safe and sound.”

“I’m scared.” The water quiets once more, and Mikleo meets Sorey’s eyes, “I want to be enough for you.”

Sorey breathes. He reaches out for Mikleo’s hand, wet from the water yet warm still, and he slips their fingers together. “You’re more than enough.”

When Mikleo laughs, he closes his eyes, and their fingers tighten. Always.

“So I think the pound cake was all right, but remember those madeleine we picked up in the meadow?” Rose’s voice reverberates through the cavern and the two friends almost tumble face first into the water. She waves at them wildly. “We think Edna’s out. You might need to shake some life into her, Shepherd.”

Mikleo stands up first and dusts the seat of his pants with his free hand. “Serves ‘em right for not sharing.” Sorey tries with a grunt, his knees buckle and Mikleo pulls him right up. They share a toothy grin.

 “Well, it seems one man’s trash is another girl’s tummy ache!” Lailah’s singsong is overlayed with a resounding boom.

Sorey flinches. “All right, let’s go before this place becomes a mausoleum.”

“Good idea.”

“But y’know, we’d probably be the coolest mausoleum in the world!”

“Edna, no, not Dezel’s hat!” Rose wails.

“We’ll have to get those cool jaw traps, right next to our cool upright coffins.” Mikleo’s probably trying to be smug, but Sorey can feel it in the way their hands stay linked tight, that Mikleo’s feeling as excited and secure as he is right now.

“I’ve got too many things to see with you before you nail me in, though!”

Yeah, Sorey thinks. Really truly.

**Author's Note:**

> my heart aches for these characters in a way that berseria never could have made me feel. there's something so refreshing in sorey and mikleo and it's so rejuvenating honestly, that friendship, that love, distilled. it reminds me of lloyd/colette/genis who are probably still my all time favorites. (anybody catch some lil references? eyebrow wiggle)  
> there's a lot of gungho-ness in berseria/zestiria, and a lot of forward movement, so i wanted to take a pause to reflect on what they're charging towards. i think vulnerability is something tangible in these characters, and i wanted to work with that, maybe to remind myself of my own affects and thoughts. anyway. thank you for reading. have a wonderful week.


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